


Work Takes a Toll

by sugarfreefox



Category: Villainous (Cartoon)
Genre: M/M, and is gonna have self harm to be warned!, because hey, black hat is here and he is a Violent Man, i havent written fic in like 3 years now, i promise this wont be abusive paperhat but it wont be super cutesy either, self harm tw, so bear with me as i get back into writing characters that arent my own, this is gonna be real self indulgent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-28
Updated: 2017-06-28
Packaged: 2018-11-20 03:15:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11327535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugarfreefox/pseuds/sugarfreefox
Summary: It's hard being a villain, especially when you're not as successful as you want to be. Sometimes you work for days on end and get very little in reward. For Doctor Flug, he can feel the familiar weight in his chest returning, but when your boss is someone who could snap your neck in a second, it's very hard to ask for help.





	Work Takes a Toll

**Author's Note:**

> These won't be written in specific chapters, more like what I want to write and then I'll publish it as I want to.

The doctor couldn’t remember how long it had been since he last got a restful night of sleep. There had been occasions where he’d fallen asleep at his desk, but those always ended with a rude and forced awakening. His bed had been left unmade for who knows how long, and his feet positively ached.

Doctor Flug sat in his chair and looked up at the ceiling, one hand passively messing with the serrated edge of his paper bag. He ran a hand over his eyes, noting how a smudge streaked the glasses, making the ceiling even more blurry. He sighed, and closed his eyes. “Oh what’s the use,” he groaned, his arms hanging languidly at his sides, “it’ll just get blurry again.” Doctor Flug remained in that place, listening to his own breathing until he gradually began to fall asleep.

“Flug!” a voice nearly shrieked in his ear.

Doctor Flug awoke with a start, his arms flailing as he fell out of his chair, hitting the ground. “Demencia!” he said, rubbing his head with one hand, “What are you doing?”

Demencia placed a finger on her cheek, a smug grin on her face, “I’m bored, wanna do something?”

“Not now,” Flug said, grabbing onto the chair as he stood up.

Demencia frowned slightly, “What? Too busy napping?”

“I wasn’t napping!” Flug argued, “I was just resting my eyes.”

Demencia poked Flug’s side, getting an aggravated sound from the man, “Haha whatever, people don’t rest their eyes, they sleep.”

“If you close your eyes, you’re resting them,” Flug argued.

Demencia blinked several times, “rest awake rest awake rest awake,” she teased.

Flug stomped a foot on the ground and pointed towards the door, “Out! Get out, Demencia!”

She pouted slightly, “Jeez, what’s your problem?” Demencia held her hands up slightly, “I’ll go, just stop yelling, alright?”

Flug continued to glare as he held his hand out towards the door, watching as the girl gathered her hair into her hands and left the room. Once she was gone Flug dropped his arm to his side, bringing the other one up underneath his bag to rub his eyes. Perhaps he was just a bit too hard on her.

After she door was shut, and locked this time, Doctor Flug returned to his work bench, fixing the chair and sitting down. Everything in front of him was the same as he had left it, though at the same time it all felt foreign. He crossed his legs and stared out over the desk. He frowned as he remained motionless, desperately wishing himself to do something.

_Come on_ , he thought, _just move your arm. It’s not that hard. Pick up your arm… move it. Damn it, just move already!_ And yet he remained stationary. As he stared intently at the materials in front of him, he kept trying to push himself forwards to work, to at least move his arms and pick something up.

“Jesus,” he hissed under his breath as he finally brought an arm up, and grabbed the flask closest to him. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered again, “not so hard is it?” He felt motion return to his body as he began to continue with this particular invention. What was it again? Some sort of laughing gas, though with some sinister twist he would probably add in later? Make them piss themselves perhaps? It would definitely be embarrassing, but would it be effective enough? How would he even go about marketing something like that? Make your enemies laugh so hard they piss themselves, for only three payments of $19.99? Doctor Flug chuckled at that, deciding that even if Black Hat didn’t want to sell this particular invention, he wanted to make it just for the hell of it.

He started off enthusiastic about his work, his attention focused entirely on the matter at hand. His hands moved deftly, and he mixed the ingredients with skill and ease, but as he worked he gradually began to notice that nothing was happening. The gas was a liquid, for one, so that wasn’t going as planned, but for the most part the materials just wouldn’t mesh as intended. “God damn,” he muttered, placing a hand on his cheek, “this was a dumb idea.” It didn’t even seem like a plausible idea any more. What was he thinking, wasting his materials on something they couldn’t sell? That was his whole job, to make inventions for them to sell! What was he doing?

Flug felt a surge of anger as he grabbed the flask and threw it across the room, where it smashed against the wall and sent fluorescent liquid spattering that corner. A small chuckle left his mouth before turning into full blown laughter, and he hit the table a few times with his fist as he laughed at the frugality of the situation. This was idiotic!

Doctor Flug held onto his sides as he laughed, the laughter quickly deteriorating into sobs as he set his head on the desk, wondering where on Earth he went wrong. It really was all useless. He sat there, the sobs subsiding gradually, and he turned to blankly stare out at the wall, finally closing his eyes after a short while.

-

Demencia held her hair in both hands as she moved around the house, “dun dun dudu dun dun dudu,” she hummed as she snuck around, a grin on her face. She moved deftly, narrowly avoiding the sight of her one true enemy, 5.0.5. Demencia slithered past, letting go of her hair as she yanked her hood over her head. She had gone past this hallway several times, but this time she froze, placing her ear against the door. She could just barely hear it, but Doctor Flug was… crying? She held a hand to her mouth, unable to help the grin that spread across her face. She had blackmail.

This time instead of following a circle around the house, she sped her way towards where she knew Black Hat would be. “Black Hat!” she called out, “I know something you’ll find absolutely hilarious!”

A puff of black smoke appeared behind her, followed closely by the villain himself, “What is it, Demencia, I’m busy.”

“Say please,” she grinned, holding her hands close to her face, “Pretty please with chocolate on top.”

“What is it?!” he yelled, grabbing Demencia roughly by her shirt.

“Flug was crying,” she laughed, sticking her tongue out slightly, “What a baby.”

“What?” he asked, raising one eyebrow, “You’re joking.”

Demencia shrugged, “He probably stubbed his toe again.”

Black Hat let go of the girl, “I don’t have time to deal with this. Demencia, go tell Flug to stop being a bitch.”

“Mmmm nah, I’m super busy, my schedule is absolutely booked,” she laughed.

“Doing what?”

“Floating,” she said seriously.

Black Hat frowned, and rolled his eyes, “Fine, I’ll do it.”

Demencia watched as her boss stalked down the hallway, his entire body tense. She put her hands on her cheeks, “Man I’d watch you float any day.”

-

Doctor Flug woke to a prod on his shoulder, his body jerking awake. He quickly turned to see the tailored suit of Black Hat, and immediately his chest tightened with stress, “I’m off the clock, I swear,” he held his hands over his head to protect himself from the blows that he knew would hit.

When nothing happened he dared to open one eye, surprised to see that his boss wasn’t filled with fury, rather he was giving him a look of straight judgment. “Flug,” Black Hat said, “get back on the clock.”

“Uh, yes sir,” he said, placing his hands on the table as he went to stand. He brought one hand up underneath his bag and wiped what remained of his tears, sniffling just a bit, “Sorry, sir.”

“Just get back to work,” Black Hat said, and left the room.

Doctor Flug looked down at his desk, still slightly off colour from where it got wet, and he gingerly touched the paper bag, feeling for how crisp the paper was. It wasn’t soggy, but it definitely wasn’t firm.

Shit, it must have been obvious. “Fucking bag,” he hissed, digging his nails into his cheeks, “fucking paper, stupid ass trees, organic material be damned.”

He stood there for a short while before standing up straighter. He placed a hand on his back and tensed up for a bit until there was a nice pop, to which he sighed in relief and hunched back over to his usual stature. _The laughing gas wasn’t that bad of an idea any more_ , he thought to himself as he walked over to clean up the residue from where it lay staining the floor. He figured he would have to scrub that out as well at some point. Well, no time like the present.

Doctor Flug returned to the site with some cleaning materials, extra heavy duty, and dropped down to his knees as he began to scrub the floor, the fluorescent material being surprisingly easily picked up. He frowned slightly as he felt heat through the towel he used to clean it up, and he hesitantly placed a hand an inch above where some of the material still lay on the floor. It was definitely radiating heat.

Doctor Flug decided to touch it with his bare hand, yelping and shaking his finger as the material burned his skin. He quickly wiped it off onto the towel, but the sting was still there.

Well, if he didn’t have a laughing gas, he was sure this could be marketed instead.


End file.
